


Now You See Me

by BleedxLikexMe



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, I'm not as sorry as I should be, This is kind of totally angsty, this is a not-gonna-actually-fix-it fix it fc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedxLikexMe/pseuds/BleedxLikexMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's back in John's life and everything is... smooth. Much, /much/ too smooth. Soon enough though, everything comes crashing down around their ears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now You See Me

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a post on Tumblr. Post-Reichenbach. Rated T for my own Paranoia.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. Never have never will. I don't make any profit from these fics.

Warnings: One instance of the F Bomb, violence (if you count mug throwing as violence), and angst.

Pairings: None really. Well, JohnLock if you squint, I guess.

Spoilers: Kinda post-Reichenbach, so if you don't know what happens in TRF I don't even know why you're reading this.  
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Honestly, Sherlock expected anger, violence, and maybe even tears when he sees John after three long years. Instead, all he got was a glare and John huffing, "Forgot the bloody milk again, Sherlock? Figures." John just shook his head, picked the newspaper back up, and focused his attention on it. Sherlock nodded, this was good. It was better than tears and anger. It was acceptance.

Except… John didn't even talk about when Sherlock had been gone. Sherlock knew John would have wanted to talk about it. It was his motis operandi to talk about his feelings. Sherlock's feeling. Fuck, Donovan's feelings. John just talked about all his feels okay? Sherlock mulled this over in his mind, trying to understand why John was avoiding the subject.

Honestly, Sherlock was a little relieved, that meant he didn't have to explain where he was and offer apologies that would be refused right then anyways. No, he preferred to skip that. The days flew by quickly, one moment of peaceful Baker Street-ness after another. Mrs. Hudson was visiting her sister for a few weeks and Lestrade evidently could actually manage some cases on his own.

It became very apparent, very quickly, that Sherlock would have to remedy that and get on a case. John walked into the kitchen and frowned, "I thought you were going to the morgue." He said as he prepared himself some tea.

"When did I say that?"

"Earlier. You said it earlier. Why haven't you gone to the morgue?" John was rapidly losing his temper, Sherlock could see that much.

"I didn't say I was going to the morgue, John. I haven't told Stamford that I'm back."

A mug whizzed past Sherlock's head and shattered on the mantle, "You said you were going to the morgue, Sherlock!" John roared before falling eerily silent. John slumped into his chair and shut his eyes, refusing to open them even when Sherlock apologized and agreed to the morgue right away.

John stayed silent.

Sherlock didn't leave his side.

That became the norm for them. John would say Sherlock had done something or announced he was going someplace, when, in actuality, he hadn't. Then John would get angry and rage and/or throw something before falling into catatonic silence for several hours. Sherlock never left his friends side during those times. He was too afraid to leave John alone; afraid he might hurt himself or others.

Three days before Mrs. Hudson returned was when Lestrade finally visited the flat. It seemed the DI's current case (murder-suicide look-a-like) was a bit beyond him. He entered the flat and smiled at John, "Hey. I got a case."

Sherlock walked past, "What on earth would you be doing here otherwise?"

"Still an arse. Why did I expect that to change?" Lestrade snorted, shaking his head.

"Because you're an idiot." Sherlock said simply, gazing into his microscope. They bantered back and forth for a few more minutes before Sherlock realized John had gone silent again. He lifted his head from the specimen, "John?" His friend had gone bed sheet white and was trembling where he stood. Sherlock strode over to his Doctor and grasped his shoulders tightly.

John jumped at the contact and pushed Sherlock away roughly. Lestrade frowned and inched forward, as if John were a wounded animal, "Oi, John, you alright, mate?" The DI glared at Sherlock, "What'd you do, Sherlock?" John made a whimpering sound when the DI spoke.

His eyes darted between the Consulting Detective and the Detective Inspector before he wheezed out a sentence, "You can see him too?"


End file.
